Tactical
by antepenult
Summary: As a Tactical Analyst, Rowen is familiar with every battle strategy and weapon schematic there is to be mastered in Starfleet. However, not one had taught her ways on how to handle the suave and audacious new captain of the USS Enterprise. James T. Kirk/OC; post Star Trek, before Star Trek Into Darkness
1. Prologue: Gold

**Tactical**

_Prologue: Gold_

**Disclaimer: **I do not own anything you recognize from the Star Trek franchise; be it characters, ships, weapons or planets. What I do own is the original characters and original locations.

* * *

Gold – a word for the once-precious metal and which is synonymous with success, achievement and prestige.

Gold was a shade James Tiberius Kirk used to think was gaudy and tasteless, a colour favoured by the elderly he had seen loitering around the fields on a good sunny day, and so he opted instead, to fill his wardrobe with shades of dark colours and leather.

But now, he couldn't get enough of the auric yellow blend.

Not since he became an officially commissioned captain in Starfleet Command.

It was a wonderful feeling, having something like a Starfleet starship under your full direction. It was even more satisfying to know that he was awarded the chance to man the majestic flagship, USS_ Enterprise_ permanently.

Jim didn't think it was possible for him to love his life even more than he did now.

"Engineering thrusters and impulse engines at your command, sir."

"Weapons systems and chutes on standby."

"Dock control reports ready, _Captain_."

_Captain_.

The utterance of that particular word sent the most pleasing of tingles down Jim's spine. Like a reflex action, a smile would always fight its way to appear whenever he heard that term being directed at him or even spoken at all.

While gold was his new favourite colour, the word 'captain' had got to be his new favourite word. There was no doubt about that.

Jim strode onto the ship's freshly refitted bridge, a newfound swagger imminent in his confident steps, as he surveyed the room that he would soon find himself very acquainted with. His command team (oh, he could get _so_ used to calling things onboard the _Enterprise_ 'his') grinned up at him from their various posts as they waited for his orders before take-off.

His eyes trailed from one blinking console to another, from one face to the other before they finally landed on the familiar scowling visage belonging to one of the three men he owed everything to.

Then, he cracked a grin.

"Bones!" Jim called out, jogging up towards Dr. Leonard McCoy, or Bones, as Jim affectionately dubbed him. He clapped a strong hand on McCoy's shoulder and his grin grew, seeing the glower in his friend's expression thicken at his spiritedness. "Buckle up!"

With that, Jim settled in the lone armchair sitting in the middle of the bridge and relished in the chill of the cold leather seeping through his gold uniform. A soft sigh made its way out of his lips and once more, a small smile appeared. Jim had lost count how many times he had caught himself smiling without knowing he had done so. Hell, not even a woman could get him to smile so voluntarily even when she's half-dressed or had her tongue shoved down his throat.

The new captain leaned back into the soft leather seat and pressed the communication button installed into the armrest.

"Scotty! How we doin'?"

"Dilithium chambers at maximum, Captain," Montgomery Scott's thick Irish brogue echoed into the room before he cut himself off to go shout at his alien sidekick.

"Mr. Sulu," The helmsman turned to him for his orders. "Prepare to engage thrusters."

The doors of the turbolift slid open then with a clinical hiss as a blue uniformed Vulcan officer stepped onto the bridge. As always, his arms were folded behind his back in a stern manner as he appraised everyone and everything with his default expression of stoic austerity.

"Permission to come aboard, Captain."

"Permission granted."

Spock nodded and proceeded towards the raised dais that homed the captain's chair.

"As you have yet to select a First Officer, respectfully, I would like to submit my candidacy," He stepped up towards Jim who stood up to greet him. "Should you desire, I can provide character references."

Spock's brown eye gaze held Jim's glinting blue orbs steadily. The hostility that shone bright and fierce from their physical altercation had abated over their shared goal of destroying Nero and _Narada._ Instead, it was now replaced with a new sense of amiable admiration for the man that had gotten on his nerves time and again, and who had caused him to lose control over his emotions for the first time since he was a child who was bullied by his full-blooded Vulcan peers.

This time, however, the lack of control was what Spock needed to help him get over his mother's untimely death. In a way, he was thankful for Jim's brusqueness.

Jim nodded curtly and chanced a smile at the Vulcan officer. "It would be my honour, Commander," Then, turning to Sulu, he said, "Maneuvering thrusters, Mr. Sulu."

"Thrusters on standby." The helmsman announced after keying in the commands on his delegated control panel.

"Take us out."

"Aye, aye, Captain."

_No_, James Kirk was sure it was impossible for him to love life more than he already had.

* * *

**A/N: **So! First off, _hello_! Nice to meet you and thank you for taking the time out to click on _Tactical _and to read it such that you end up at this note. I do hope you enjoyed this story as much as I enjoyed writing it. Anyway, I decided to start this story after watching _Star Trek 2009 _back in 2010. I thought it'd be fun to do a story about the exploratory exploitations of the _Enterprise. _But I stopped partway because I was distracted by life and this story was put on the backburner.

_THEN!_

Then, I saw the trailers for _Star Trek Into Darkness_ and my muse is back. Back and raging furiously. I think it's the first time I've ever written something so consistently.

_Tactical _will take place during the one year travel _Enterprise_ went on before STID because while ST 2009 ended in early 2258, STID will only take place in 2259, so that gives me (or us) free reign to do whatever we want with that time gap.

Lastly, I am not an experienced trekkie. I've only gotten interested in Star Trek due to the alternate reality movies, so in order to be as accurate as I can be in this story, I did tonnes of research and reading. But! If any of you catch anything that is inaccurate, please do correct me! Be it in a review or a pm. I'll really appreciate it :)

This chapter is just the recap of ST, next chapter will be when the story truly begins. Soooo yeah, that's about it really.

**Read, enjoy and leave a sub/review!**

_antepenult out._


	2. Red

**Tactical**

_Chapter One: Red_

_**Disclaimer: **I do not own anything you recognize from the Star Trek franchise; be it characters, ships, weapons or planets. What I do own is the original characters and original locations._

* * *

"Anything? Anything at all?"

Sulu threw his captain an exasperated look from over his shoulder. It was the same question Jim had started asking three days ago, and which was repeated in an hourly pattern for as long as the man was sitting in the captain's chair. Truthfully, it was starting to grate on his last nerve.

"No, Captain," He bit out, gritting his teeth, intent on keeping the words he had wanted to say down and focused on the various programme on his console instead.

Before Jim could turn towards Uhura, his communications officer, she had already looked to him with a shake of her head.

"Nothing out of the ordinary here too, Captain," Uhura reported. "All subspace transmissions we're receiving are the customary reports from Starfleet Command."

"Aww, man! Really?" Jim groaned. He tilted his head back against the leather rest of his chair. When he started to do a mental count of the light fixtures above him, he realized with another small grunt that he had already done that.

_Twice._

Jim rubbed a hand down his face, exhausted at the lack of nothingness in the endless space around them. It had been exactly a week since _Enterprise_'s departure from Starbase and the most exciting thing he had done so far was to stun a small rogue starship that had tried to engage the _Enterprise_ in combat. They had obviously overestimated their abilities, seeing as their phasers barely did any damage to the hull. Jim spent a good half an hour laughing after the whole matter blew over.

"Come on, there's got to be something we can do besides floating around in space!" He griped.

"Vell, there's nuthing, Sir," Ensign Pavel Chekov, the Russian prodigy and navigator for the USS _Enterprise_ reiterated.

"If I may, Captain. Perhaps it will be beneficial for you to take a respite," Spock advised, taking note of the restlessness in Jim's body language. The man had been unsettled an hour into his shift and it was clear his growing discontentment was rubbing off on the command team. "The bridge is manageable for the time being and a short break will do your nerves some good."

Jim raised a brow at his first officer, a slow grin blossoming across his face. "Are you trying to get rid of me, Spock?"

"No, I am not attempting to eradicate you," Spock replied. "Although, I can not say the same for the other crewmembers."

Jim made a face.

"Am I that annoying?" He didn't think he was being intentionally bothersome. But then again, what he assumed he was being, was normally the opposite of what others thought. "Mr. Sulu?"

The helmsman paused at being singled out, but shook his head nonetheless. "No, sir."

Jim eyed the man squarely. "Come on, Sulu. We nearly died together. I think that warrants a kind of honesty between us, no?"

Sulu hesitated once more.

His eyes flicked between his control panels, to Chekov, then to Uhura and finally back to Jim. At the latter's encouraging nod, he shrugged.

"It would be nice for you to quit asking us if we've found anything on the radar to engage the ship…"

"That's what I'm talking about! An honest rapport between one another!" Jim declared and reached over to pat the helmsman on his shoulder heartily. His face fell the next instant, though, when Sulu's words registered in his head. He leaned back into his chair with a small frown. "But really? I didn't realize I've been repeating myself."

"You've asked that same question so many times that you're not even aware of it anymore," Uhura remarked drily. "That should mean something."

Jim hummed thoughtfully. He _had_ been sitting in that chair for quite a while and frankly, it was driving him a little stir-crazy. Besides, there was nothing for him to do. He was merely staring out into the endless night through the view-screen. That roughly translated to him wasting his time when he could have been doing something more useful.

Such as _'friendly harassing'_ – as he'd like to call it – the Chief Medical Officer.

Now, _that_ was always entertaining.

"Mr. Spock!" He called, turning towards his half-Vulcan comrade. "Will you be alright to man the con?"

Spock nodded.

"Wonderful," Jim stood from his chair, flinching when a sharp jolt of pain shot through his right leg at the inactiveness of it. "I'll be in the sickbay if you need me."

He then shook his dead leg out gently, until all that was left of the pins and needles was a small tingling and started for the turbolift, throwing an exaggerated wink in his wake at the science officer who had been eyeing him in amusement.

He chuckled deeply at the flush that bloomed across the brunette's tanned cheeks even as she rolled her eyes in return. Flushed cheeks were always a definite sign that the other party enjoyed his tactics even if their response actions said otherwise.

To Jim, it was never possible for one to betray their body's natural reactions.

The turbolift's doors slid open, revealing a stretch of brightly lit corridor that would lead him straight to the sickbay. _Enterprise's_ crewmembers clad in the standard Starfleet shades of Command gold (his personal favourite); Operations red and Sciences blue passed him by as they went about their duties aboard the starship.

His sure-footed steps were now imbued with even more confidence as he strutted down the corridors. Every single one of the Starfleet crew had greeted Jim, be it with a smile or a verbal regard, to which he responded in kind with either a polite incline of his head or a charming grin and a husky voiced "Hello," for a select few.

"Afternoon, Captain Kirk."

Jim snapped himself out of the shroud of gratifying self-achievement he was gladly basking in as he turned to the tall redhead with a slow-growing smirk. Instantly, he could see the rush of blood to her pale skin.

"Good afternoon to you too..."

"It's Cadet Amy Malbrum, Sir."

"Cadet Malbrum," Jim drawled, nodding curtly. He pulled on her arm and led her to the side such that they were not blocking anyone's way and that single action had caused the redness in her cheeks to flare. "And what department do you belong to, Cadet?"

"I'm from the Botany lab,"

"Ah, plants. I like plants…" Jim picked up a lock of her fire engine red hair and twirled it between his fingers. "Especially flowers. The _red _ones. They're all so pret –"

"_What in the hell do you think you're doing?"_

The two looked towards where the ear-rending yell had come from as Jim realized that the sickbay was just located at the end of the corridor. Sighing, he stepped away from the cadet with an easy smile and turned around, his back to his desired location.

"Well, work hard, Cadet Malbrum. I'll be sure to look for you if I have any enquiries on plants."

Malbrum nodded fervently with a bright grin that threatened to split her face in half. Satisfied, Jim winked at her and turned back towards the sickbay, where the raucous shouting was still going strong.

"Nurse Chapel!" Jim greeted above the din of slamming glass doors and nervous pattering footsteps once he entered the double doors and into the sterile environment. "Looking lovely, as always."

The blonde head nurse looked up from the computer screen she had been working on and let out a quiet but long-suffering sigh when her eyes fell on the man leaning against her desk. Without a change in her demeanour, Chapel tossed him a smile and returned to her work.

"Good afternoon, Captain."

Realizing he wasn't about get anything else out of her voluntarily, Jim pressed on. "What are you working on?"

"I'm reorganizing the back up medical records," Chapel explained simply.

"Why? I thought that's the first thing Bones normally do once he step foot into the sickbay." Jim pointed out.

"One of the cadets deleted some of the files by accident."

Jim made a small noise of sympathy. "Is that what got him into such a foul mood?"

"That, among other things. The cadets we were posted this time round seemed to like pushing Dr. McCoy's buttons."

The two jumped, when McCoy let out another string of curses as he strode passed them with his PADD and medical tricorder, before disappearing behind one of the curtains where a lone figure sat waiting for him.

Deciding to be considerate for once, Jim moved to find himself a seat on one of the beds diagonal to the one McCoy was in. From his vantage point, all he could see was the back of an Operations crew with a head of long, straight blonde hair. It was a familiar shade that he couldn't for the life of him pinpoint at the moment, but it had to be the prettiest blonde colour he had ever seen (and he had seen a _lot_ of hair colours, be it blonde, brown, orange or green).

"You were supposed to see me the moment you set foot on this ship," He heard McCoy grouse amidst the sharp beeping from his tricorder. "Where's your identity tape?"

Red, as Jim dubbed her, handed the data tape over to him and shrugged. "I got a little distracted mapping out the ship's weapons."

"Distracted for three whole days? What kind of weapons are you working on?" McCoy scoffed. "We'll see how distracted you are when your windpipes start to close in on you and you turn blue from the lack of oxygen."

"At the rate you're raging on your cadets, Dr. McCoy, I'm worried _you'll_ be the one turning blue first."

Jim smothered a chuckle at Red's flippant rebuttal. But it was not as subtle as he thought for McCoy snapped his attention towards him and the permanent scowl on his face deepened. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"I'm bored,"

"Go away, Jim!"

"What! I'm not even doing anything!" Jim argued, although his grin belied his defensiveness. Even Chapel was trying to hide her own amused smile. "Go on, don't let me distract you, Bones."

After sending the captain another dark glare, McCoy turned back to Red, all the while muttering under his breath about insolent fools and rude patients and damn it, he wasn't here to treat infantile Starfleet members. He tapped a couple of commands into his PADD before reaching for a strange looking tube on the bedside table, which he passed to the blonde.

"Blow," He grunted.

This time, Jim couldn't be bothered to restrain his amusement as a loud bubble of laughter tumbled out of his lips. It didn't take the others long to find out what exactly he was laughing at.

"Juvenile idiot," McCoy grumbled, although his mouth curved up lightly at the ends. He obviously shared the same amusement as Jim. "I honestly don't know how you managed to get promoted."

The sickbay grew silent after the laughter died down, apart from the awkward puffing from Red as she blew into the strange tube twice more, with McCoy taking note of the readings in between each draft. He tapped on his PADD before looking up at her.

"I want you to come in daily for your readings,"

"Everyday? Isn't that a bit of an overkill?" Red mused. "I only had to record them once a week back on the USS_ Olympus_."

McCoy pursed his lips. "Are you the Chief Medical Officer here?"

"No,"

"And are you on the USS_ Olympus _right now?"

"…No,"

"_Exactly_. Sickbay. Everyday," McCoy all but demanded. "If I don't see you here at 1500 hour daily, I'm going to sic one of those critters we call cadets on you."

There was a pause before Red spoke up again.

"How about a compromise?" She suggested. "Give me your PADD code and one of the meters. I'll send my recordings to you by 1500 hour everyday. That way I don't have to come all the way here just for that."

"Fine," McCoy said after a short hesitation. He walked over to the curtains and pulled them open as Red hopped down from the bed nimbly. "1500 hour everyday, no later than that. Get my PADD code from Chapel."

For the first time since he was there, Jim finally got a glimpse of Red's face. When he did, he couldn't help but snigger to himself, because the nickname he had given her was aptly labeled.

The first thing he noticed wasn't her eyes or her nose or her lips. It was the pair of large red-framed glasses perched on her nose that covered almost half of her face. The pair of kooky eyewear and her hair was the only thing special enough to catch anyone's attention. Red was, for a lack of a better term, plain in looks.

She smiled at him politely. "Good afternoon, Captain."

Jim inclined his head at her in acknowledgement before she walked off towards Chapel's desk. He turned back to McCoy, only to see the man staring at him in silent disbelief.

"What?"

McCoy folded his arms across his chest and leaned against the foot of the bed. "No charming Kirk introductions? Flirtatious smiles? Sexual innuendos?"

Jim shrugged. "She's not my type,"

At this, McCoy's brows shot high up into his hairline. It would have been funny, if it weren't for the fact that Jim was feeling self-conscious under the look, and James T. Jim was never one to feel unsure or embarrassed.

"You have a _type_? I thought you just went in for anythingwith breasts and a vagina," McCoy paused, and then added with a smirk. "And a tendency to be stupid."

"Most of them were Starfleet recruits," Jim pointed out.

"Yeah, but they're still dumb enough to fall for your tricks."

"That should say something, shouldn't it?" Jim asked, grinning smugly at his friend. "That even the smartest of women will turn stupid at the sight of my infallible skills to charm them."

McCoy rolled his eyes and walked off, not having the patience to grace him with a reply. Jim trailed after him, chortling when the cadet who had been working with the hyposprays stiffened and let out a squeak at her commander's presence. She scurried to another part of the sickbay without another word, determined to stay out of McCoy's line of sight as much as she could.

"Go back to the bridge, Jim, and quit bothering me," McCoy grumbled, walking into his office while tapping away on his PADD. "Some of us actually have work to do."

"Are you implying that I've not been fulfilling my duties as captain of this ship, Bones?"

McCoy scoffed, settling into his chair. "I'm not implying. I'm stating a fact."

Jim threw himself into the chair opposite him; limbs sprawled out in a stance reminiscent of a starfish.

"But there's just nothing for me to do!" He exclaimed, exasperated. "All I've done so far is sit in the captain's chair and pray for something to happen. The command team sent me away because apparently, I've been asking them if there's anything on the radar way too often for their liking." Jim straightened himself, only to slump down again, this time onto the medical officer's desk. "It's making me want a repeat of the whole Nero fiasco just so there's some action in my life."

He picked up a probe like equipment and studied it with a disgusted frown.

"Don't jinx it. I happen to like this lull in activities," McCoy muttered, snatching back the apparatus and throwing it into his drawer instead. He reclined in his seat and watched as Jim moved to fiddle with his framed photography of his daughter, Joanna instead. "You're the captain of this ship, Jim. There's always something for you to do."

"Like what?"

"I don't know… go mingle with your crew or something. _And_ I mean mingle in the most innocent, platonic and professional way," McCoy suggested, sending Jim a knowing look. "The _Enterprise_'s a big ship, Jim, and there are a lot of departments. You should probably go familiarize yourself with every one of them."

"Hmm, that sounds _logical_." Jim smirked while McCoy rolled his eyes, not finding him very funny at all. "I've never thought of that before."

A series of knocks on the door halted the latter's reply as a cadet clutching a box medical supplies peered into the room cautiously.

"Commander? Oh, hi, Captain. Commander, there's uh, there's a p-problem with one of the engineers. It looks like an allergic reaction? B-but we're not too sure..." The cadet, flustered at the way Jim was smirking at her, stammered.

"_Dammit, Jim!" _McCoy scowled_._

"What!"

"Stop trying to seduce my cadets!"

* * *

**A/N: **I hope I didn't make Jim and Bones and everyone else out to be too OOC. I loved writing the interaction between these former two. They're just so much fun together!

Also, my story is best viewed in the 3/4 alignment style. You can find the setting button on the left hand side, under the story details. The full reading style stretches my chapters too much such that they look all sparse and weird. So, 3/4, you guys!**  
**

Hasty ending, but I hope you guys enjoy this chapter nonetheless!

Lastly, lots of thanks to the subscribers, the readers who favourited it and most importantly the reviewers! I was honestly not expecting any reviews at all because the prologue was just turning the movie into words, so to receive not just 1 but 5 reviews was extremely heartening for me.

Happy Easter, everyone! And remember, **read/subscribe** and **review**!

**_antepenult_**


	3. The Complete Starfleet Codex: Volume III

**Tactical**

_Chapter Two: The Complete Starfleet Codex: Volume III_

* * *

Jim had to admit that besides the command chair, his next favourite place to sit and stew in was the sonic shower in his personal quarter's bathroom.

While there were similar cleansing technologies back in Starfleet Academy, none had come close to possessing the unique massaging and scent-producing capacities the captain's bathroom carried.

At the end of his shift on his first day as the _Enterprise's_ captain, he had spent almost an hour of his downtime exploring the various functions his sonic shower had to offer and waived off another hour finally getting himself cleaned and prepped for his first night aboard the vessel. Needless to say, it was the best night's sleep he had had in a long time.

A gush of cool air greeted his flushed face as he stepped out of the cubicle, a thick stream of steam rushing out after him. He had woken up a little over half-an-hour ago, and had spent the remainder of the time cooped up in the frosted plexiglass cubicle with the shower stream set to 'torrid'.

As Jim went about finishing up his morning routine, he was interrupted by the cold computerized voice echoing through his steaming bathroom.

"Captain Kirk, you have an incoming private call from Starfleet Command."

"Wha'?" The blond spit the minty foam into the sink and rinsed his mouth quickly. "Computer, repeat."

"You have an incoming private call from Starfleet Command, sir."

Flustered, because he had not been expecting a call while undressed and especially not from Starfleet Command so soon into his captaincy, Jim hastily threw on his standard uniform, muttering curses under his breath at the untimely interruption. His mind went hurtling at a hundred miles an hour; trying to come up with a list of possible things he could have done wrong to garner the attention of Command.

Guiltily, his eyes trailed over to the desk sitting in the office linked to his bedroom, where a pile of PADDs sat, waiting to be read by him.

Having heeded McCoy's suggestion of familiarizing himself with all the units in Enterprise, he had asked his yeoman, an austere blonde named Janice Rand, to put together the core frameworks of each individual unit so that he could get to know the in-and-outs of his crew and their jobs better.

He had regretted it, sort of.

Halfway through the report for Anthropology, Jim had all but given up, and had quite unceremoniously, chucked the handheld computer over to the virtually unused desk in the corner of his officer, where it sat for the majority of that day and the next.

Along with the rest of the PADDs from the other departments.

_'It's not a big problem to find reports boring, right?'_ He mused and allowed his eyes to trail over his room skeptically. He wouldn't put it past Starfleet not to somehow install cameras in his room.

"Captain Kirk, the caller is still awaiting your response."

Jim let out a muffled curse and ordered for the call to be patched through, running a hand through his wet hair and bracing himself for whatever was waiting for him in that call. He made a mental note to tone down the snarky comebacker in him, not wanting to aggravate whoever it was about whatever it was.

Thanks to Frank and his tendency to hurl verbal (and physical, sometimes) abuses at him as a child, Jim had developed a defense mechanism that essentially turned him into an abrasive and arrogant rebel, which only got him into more trouble with his volatile stepfather and any Starfleet personnel of higher authority.

Although he was a brilliant student who excelled in his work, his brash and reckless behaviour often left the teaching personnel torn between being impressed by his academic achievements and blowing their tops off in fury at his difficult conduct.

Jim ran another hand through his hair, took a seat in front of his computer monitor, just as a face flickered onto the transparent aluminum screen.

"Fresh out of the shower, I see."

Admiral Christopher Pike, the previous commanding officer of the USS _Enterprise_, smiled knowingly at him. Colour had returned to his face and the bruises had all faded away, leaving him looking far healthier after his imprisonment by Nero.

"Admiral," Jim cleared his throat and leaned back into his seat in slight relieve. "How are you, sir?"

"Great, Captain," Pike said. "And you? How is everything aboard the Enterprise?"

Jim pursed his lips and nodded curtly. "Good,"

"Relax," The older of the two chuckled deeply as he leaned back into his armchair. "I'm just checking in on you, see how everything's going so far. I'm not here to prosecute you of something," He paused then, steel grey eyes flashing sharply. "Unless, of course, there's something there for me to."

"None, sir," Jim said. "Everything aboard the Enterprise is going just fine. Actually, there's nothing for me to do to get wrong. Nothing much has happened so far. Absolutely nothing."

Pike sighed. He had not missed the hopeful glint in Jim's eyes.

"That's what I was going to talk to you about," He said. "Starfleet Command has ordered for Enterprise to stick to exploratory missions for the time being. All combat and rescue assignments will be undertaken by other vessels."

"What?" Jim frowned. He leaned forward in his seat. "Why?"

"Command feels it is better for the ship and her crew to slowly acclimate to its journey after –"

"That's a load of crap! You and I both know Enterprise and the crew are capable of combat missions and more," Jim argued. "It's because of me, isn't it? They don't think I'm good enough to lead the crew, that's why they gave us the shitty jobs."

Jim's grinded his teeth together as he tried to force down the torrent of things fighting to slip pass his lips. Memories of Frank reminding him of not being good enough to be anything great in life rang through his head. He had thought now that he was thousands of light-years away from the man that Jim could finally be rid of him. But it seemed Frank would always be back to haunt him no matter what.

"I'm not going to sugarcoat it – yes, it's because of you," Pike held out his hand, effectively stopping the tirade hanging on the tip of Jim's tongue. "You have to remember, Jim, that you're the youngest captain to be commissioned in Starfleet history. That in itself proved not only are you good enough to be a captain, but you are also more than capable to lead Enterprise and her crew. You saved Earth for god's sake!"

"Didn't do it on my own." Jim mumbled.

Pike smiled.

"But having said that, you also have to remember that prior to your captaincy, you were known throughout the Academy for your reckless disposition. You were a bright student, yes, but you were also incredibly headstrong and brash. You should know, considering the number of times you've butt heads with your survival strategies admiral."

"That's 'cause Admiral Okra's an ass."

"Even so, you should know better than to call him out in front of the whole class." Pike chided him.

The seriousness of the matter was lost on Jim though; who only grinned when he remembered how purple Okra's face turned that day. It was the day he earned his moniker _'Admiral Plum'_ and also the day Jim had almost gotten himself kicked out of the academy if it were not for his tactical analysis teacher, Admiral Storme.

He knew he liked her for a reason, other than the fact that she had one of the best pairs of legs Jim had ever seen on a female (they went on for days).

"And your last stint with the _Kobayashi Maru_? The Academy Board was _not _impressed with that. You may have proven yourself during the Nero incident, but your competency as a captain in the long haul is another matter entirely," Pike explained patiently. "Being a captain is not just about giving orders or firing torpedoes, Jim, it's about making choices that will not only uphold the Federation's principles but that will also keep the people working with you, alive."

Jim sighed, letting the words digest in his head. Grudgingly, although he hated to admit it, Pike was right. He knew of his hotheaded temper and it was often what got him into trouble before and during his time at Starfleet Academy. Jim always thought that if he had met him in another life, he would have hated himself.

"I understand, sir."

"Besides, exploratory missions aren't as boring as you think they are," Pike added, leaning back into his seat with a small smile. "You might even find yourself having fun during some of them. I know I did."

"Sir?"

"Some races have their own homegrown liquor that you'll never find on Earth," Pike explained mildly. "Not to mention the kind of celebrations they throw from time to time."

Jim cracked a grin. "Never knew you to be the type to succumb to booze and parties, sir."

"I'm only human. We all need a break from time to time – _off the record_," Pike emphasized as he flicked his attention to somewhere beyond the screen, where a soft voice was speaking. He nodded to whatever was being said before offering a quiet 'I'll be there soon,' to them.

"I've got to go. Now, if things stayed the way they did in the captain's quarter, there will be a codex in your office. It's kept in the security chest located in the wall adjacent to your desk – password's eight-one-three-nine-four. Study it. Make sure you're familiar with every single Starfleet regulation and directive there is to know," Pike advised. "Be on your best behaviour, Kirk. Starfleet Command is watching you very closely. One slip up and you'll be waving goodbye to that chair faster than you can say Starfleet."

"Way not to put stress on me, Sir," Jim blanched. He sobered then, as he rubbed the back of his neck, looking uncharacteristically bashful. "But thank you. I know I don't say it much…" He paused, made a face and shrugged. "Well, actually, I don't say it _at all_ but I really do appreciate all that you've done for me."

"Just take good care of the _Enterprise, _I'm quite fond of this ship," Pike grinned and nodded at him. "Good luck, Captain. Pike out,"

The image of Pike's smiling visage disappeared with a short flicker as the monitor cut back to its usual blankness. Jim leaned back into his chair and let out a rough sigh, eyes closed. The tension that had left his body courtesy to the sonic shower had returned and had caused all the muscles in his shoulders to grow taut with an unseen weight.

While he knew being a Starfleet captain wasn't an easy job and he had barely scratched the surface of the position, Jim never expected to know that the hardest part of the job was how Starfleet Command truly viewed him. They saw him as a one-time hero who saved his homeplanet in a moment of ingenuity and rash courage and he couldn't help but entertain the idea that perhaps they only gave him the position out of gratitude.

He rubbed a hand down his face just as the chronometer next to the door tittered seven times softly, signaling he still had another hour before he would be needed on the bridge. Deciding to grab a quick breakfast first, Jim pushed himself out of his chair and headed towards the security chest Pike was talking about before.

The chest was built into the wall just beside his desk, hidden from plain sight unless you got close enough to see the thin grooves that made up its hinges. Jim had chanced upon it on his third night aboard the Enterprise, and thought it was a mechanism that would open up a secret compartment in his quarter when pressure was applied on it.

(He blamed his over-active imagination on the one too many Indiana Jones films he had watched as a young boy.)

While no secret rooms and alcoves appeared – much to Jim's slight dismay – the piece of wall did light up in a mild green backlight when his hand touched the cold surface, revealing a set of number keys he assumed was for him to enter the password needed to access the chest.

Jim had never opened it, having forgotten about asking Rand for the password the next day. But it wasn't as if he had a need for a safety box. There was nothing valuable for him to keep in it. Besides, even if he had anything valuable, Jim would prefer to keep it _on _him at all times.

Lightly, he pressed his hand on the piece of bordered wall before keying in the passcode like Pike had told him onto the illuminated keypad. There was a sharp beep, and then the wall slid away with a soft hiss to reveal a white, medium sized cavity with a single object residing in it.

Jim reached into the compartment and pulled out the object towards him, only to realize that it wasn't another box as he had assumed.

Instead, it was a book.

A rather thick and heavy volume – although no thicker than his physics textbook – with the words '_The Complete Starfleet Codex: Volume III_' stamped across its dark red hardcover in gilded gold ink.

"Huh, thought Starfleet would have converted them to computerized versions by now," Jim mused to himself as he slammed the codex onto his desk with a distasteful expression.

He flipped open the book and was relieved to see that the font size of the words were bigger than that of his physics text and were decently spaced such that he would not compromise his 20/20 vision. As he thumbed through the pages, some filled with words and others with diagrams of what looked to be hand signs of different cultures and races, one of his forgotten PADDs slid towards him, as though reminding him of what he had chosen to forsake in the wake of the codex's introduction.

He glanced between the two critically.

Then, Jim shrugged.

He picked up the codex, locked up the security chest and walked away to his door without another glance at the cast off computer interface.

* * *

**A/N: Late, late, late, late, late.**

This is so late and I am so, so sorry! I've been so sick lately and I had only gotten half the chapter written before I was caught with a bad case of stomach flu. When I tried to continue the rest of the chapter while confined to bed rest, I was stuck and reduced to a flood of pathetic writer tears.

On the plus side, I managed to catch a couple episodes of TOS in between moments when I'm not all hyped up on the meds and trying to falling asleep with a bowl of hot congee in my lap. Which, wasn't very often by the way. But can I just say how much of a babe Shatner was in TOS? Although he had me rolling about laughing hysterically at his expression when Edith Keeler died (sorry to say). Oh, the 60's, can't help but love them.

The next chapter will hopefully be up in three (maybe two, tops?) if I can finish it while I made up for the lost time I was away from school. Once again, thank you all for reading and reviewing and subbing and faving! Makes me happy while I was stuck in bed being grumpy and miserable. Review responses are as follow:

**Guest:** Thank you for pointing it out! I was wondering if I had been making Jim's flirtatious nature out to be too exaggerated/unrealistic so thank you so much for pointing it out! I'll be sure to watch out for that as I continue writing this story :)

**youngbones7: **Maybe... just continue reading to find out. I love the interaction between them too. Bones is just hilarious. Hope I did them justice!

**katie93319: **There's a slight problem with your review, dear... hahaha

**Fugitive: **Thank you! I was so worried I wasn't doing these characters justice and went completely OOC with them. But thank you so much for reading!

As always, **read, subscribe **and** review**!

**antepenult**


	4. Rowen

**Tactical**

_Chapter Three: Rowen_

* * *

Jim had just finished reading up on _Starfleet General Order Six _when the prickling sensation of being watched crept up his spine. He looked up then, to see both Scotty and McCoy staring at him expectantly, waiting for an answer to a question he had missed in his tirade about Starfleet and their absurd regulations. They had taken the unoccupied seats at his table and he was surprised to know that he hadn't realized they had been sitting in front of him all this while.

Since he had settled down at a table in the far end corner of the mess hall with a cup of coffee and a cold cut sandwich, Jim had been pulled into the codex as he scoured through the many regulations and guidelines that existed or used to exist in Starfleet.

While he understood the importance of implementing particular directives and principles of behaviour in as huge an organization as that of Starfleet, he couldn't help but feel that some of the orders he had read were bordering on being downright silly. Jim often caught himself scoffing or snorting aloud at some of them subconsciously and was glad that they were now ceased to be operative, or he would have found himself breaking rules more often than he did now.

"I'm sorry?" Jim asked Scotty, as he took a bite out of his barely touched sandwich. "Di'n catch dat."

"You're disgusting," McCoy cringed as he recoiled from the sight of Jim chewing with his mouth intentionally open.

The gritty wholemeal bread felt like sand against Jim's tongue and the lettuce had a paper-like consistency. Not to mention, his favourite part of the sandwich, – or any meal to be precise – the meats, tasted like salted rubber. He had to refrain from spitting out the morsel and settled for flushing them down his throat forcibly with a big gulp of coffee instead.

He made a slight face as he regarded the food in his hand. Even replicators could make better sandwiches than the galley staff.

"I asked what's that you're readin'," Scotty repeated, nodding at the hefty volume that lay open in front of Jim as he tore at the cellophane protection of his own sandwich. The latter flipped over the book over to the cover and turned it towards him and McCoy.

"_The Complete Starfleet Codex: Volume Three_…" Bones narrowed his eyes. "Never heard of it,"

"For captain's eyes only," Jim winked, pointing at the miniscule silver script stamped into the bottom of the cover. He snapped the book shut and set it aside to be perused later. "So, what's up?"

As usual, McCoy went on another one of his harangue about how one of the medical cadets had yet again, managed to screw up the simple act of administering stitches for a cut, and had gone from a loud, boisterous complain to him muttering darkly to himself. Jim, having gotten used to his friend's almost daily rants about his 'incompetent' team of imbeciles, chose instead to watch Scotty tackle his sandwich before brandishing it with a flourish and a small noise of triumphant.

With a hungered grin, Scotty took a reasonably sized bite out of it, and promptly spat it out, turning a ruddy shade of red.

Jim snorted.

"What the hell is this?" He stared down at the sandwich, aghast. "Even replicators can make better sandwiches than this!" He looked up at Jim then, and huffed. "Captain, do somethin'!"

"What do you want me to do?" asked Jim, still laughing at his reaction.

"I dunno! You're the captain!" said Scotty, still red in the face, although disappointment was now obvious in his expression. "Use yer captain powers and get them to make better sandwiches!"

"That comes under _Starfleet Authority Order One_, Scotty," Jim pointed out. "Misuse of a commanding officer's authority will deem him or her unfit for duty as the vessel's captain."

"It's not misuse if it's for sandwiches!" Scotty retorted, still staring at his sandwich in dismay. It was as though if he managed to look sad enough while glaring at the sandwich, it would miraculously turn decent somehow. "They're – they're essential! Like weapons! Every good ship needs to have a solid supply of food, Captain!"

"I'll keep that in mind," Jim nodded with another chuckle. He drained the last of his coffee and stood up as he dumped his sandwich into the empty cup. "Well, I'm off to finish this book. God, that sounds pathetic. Captain of a ship and the only thing I can do is read a book."

"It's the honeymoon period, sir," Scotty said, calmer now, as he patted the wall close to their table fondly. It was no secret to anyone who knew the chief engineer that the _Enterprise _held a big, special place in his heart. "Special time for ye to get to know yer bonny lass better."

Jim raised a brow in response. "Honeymoon involves _action_, if you know what I mean."

"Like I said," McCoy cut in, looking up from his PADD to fix his friend with a firm glare. "Don't jinx it."

"I'm just saying–"

Jim was cut short by the shrill whirring of the red alert signal blaring through the entire ship.

As a whole, everyone in the room froze – some halfway through their conversations and others with their utensils paused in front of their open mouths – before jumping straight into action a second later as they abandoned their meals and rushed straight for the doors that had opened automatically for the panicked scramble.

"Calling Captain Kirk to the bridge immediately," Spock's detached voice rang out, loud and calm in the midst of chaos. "I repeat, Captain Kirk to the bridge."

Scotty rushed off without a word of goodbye as he shouted at one of the Operations crew near them before they rushed out of the mess hall together.

"Damnit, Jim!" McCoy scowled, hopping out of his seat, expression flitting into a tensed grimace. "You jinxed it!"

Jim graced him with a simple smirk in response and headed for the entrance that would lead him fastest to the bridge. He hurried through the corridors that were now illuminated in a flashing redness from the alert lamps attached to the white walls as his heart thundered against his chest. Crewmembers rushed past him in a frenzied mess, each hurrying to their own stations blindly. Jim had only just avoided colliding with a smaller Operations crew who was lugging a crate of what looked to be sonic tools when he reached the air-lock entrance that would lead him onto the bridge.

When the doors to the bridge hissed open, all Jim could see was chaos.

The operation center had turned into a pandemonium of status reports and commands fighting to be heard over one another, punctuated by the sharp beeping of buttons and flashing signals. Having grown used to seeing the bridge in a state of peace, it startled Jim a little – although he was secretly pleased that something action-paced was finally happening – to see his command team in a carefully ordered disarray.

"What's going on? Report!" Jim barked, throwing himself into the command chair.

"It's a Breen ship," Spock relayed amidst the sharp noises emitting from his station. "They have locked us in for combat."

"Breen?" Jim frowned. This particular race was not a part of the Federation and had instead, chosen to keep a relatively safe distance from it, despite being in the same quadrant. As a result of this, they were still fairly unknown in Starfleet. "Did they say what they wanted?"

"No, Captain."

Jim swore under his breath and turned towards his communication officer. "Hail them now."

Uhura nodded and turned back to her station. Her slim fingers flew over the touch screen panel as she keyed in the command for bridging communications between the two vessels.

As he waited for their transmission to be patched through to the Breen, Jim took the time to study the alien starship.

The Breen ship was noticeably bigger than the _Enterprise_, and was clearly built to intimidate, unlike the latter's sleek and clean-cut design. The overall shape of the ship resembled that of a spider, with numerous platforms extending out then curving in to protect the main body. Like the _Narada_, the ship was painted a dark slate grey colour that allowed it to blend into the vast space surrounding them.

But even in the cover of the darkness around them, Jim could still see the abundance in their warfare ammunition.

The view of the ship was distorted when the enemy ship finally accepted the transmission. A slight flicker later, the image of a masked humanoid appeared on the clear viewscreen, followed by an array of garbled electronic noises booming from the bridge's voice receivers. The senseless clamor had caused one of the science officers to clamp her hands over her ears as her expression changed to one of pain.

Flustered, Uhura rushed to switch on their universal translator in order to convert the Breen syntax into English.

"This is Captain James T. Kirk of the USS _Enterprise,_ to whom am I speaking?"

"I am Krong, commander of the _Lamia_."

Although the electronic noises had been converted into English, the Breen language still sent chills down Jim's spine. Their words were spoken with a bone-chilling coldness that emphasized their steely countenance. Like their ship, even the Breen individual's countenance was carefully structured to scare.

"Are you aware that you are currently engaging a Federation ship in combat without any provocations on our part?"

"Yes," Krong stated simply.

Jim stiffened in his seat, feeling the ire in him rising quickly at the nonchalance in Krong's one-worded reply.

"Withdraw now or you will be declaring war upon the United Federation of Planets," Jim growled. "For which I will be forced to–"

A low, steely guffaw cut his message short when Krong threw his head back and laughed, as though everything Jim had suggested was the funniest joke he had ever heard.

The young captain tightened his grip on his chair in response and scowled.

"I do not have qualms with your little boy band, _Captain_," Krong drawled, placing a careful and pointedly mocking emphasis on the salute. Jim could almost see the grin in his voice growing behind the metal mask. "My dilithium mines are looking a little lackluster in labour, you see."

And as though to support his unspoken intention, the shuttlecrafts parked on the _Lamia_'s platforms glowed an eerie green in the darkness.

"And you're here, _alone_, with a ship andan able-bodied crew, I'm afraid all you can do is surrender or be destroyed." Krong declared and reclined back into his chair. "I'm giving you five-seconds, Captain. Lights out in your starship or I will be forced to utilize undesirable means to make you surrender."

With that, the image of Krong flickered from the viewscreen for the transmission had been cut off between the two vessels. Silence was deafening and stifling in the command center as the crew waited for their commanding officer's next order.

"Shields up," Jim ordered. "Ready for immediate warp, Sulu."

The helmsman turned toward his captain at the unlikely command, eyes wide in surprise. He was already poised to deploy the use of any tactical means to bring down the enemy ship, having anticipated a full-powered retaliation on their part. Sulu had expected Jim to jump headfirst into action after Krong had so publicly challenged him because that was what he thought the new captain would have done.

"Captain?"

Jim fixed him with a steady stare and nodded firmly. "As fast as we can go. Punch it."

"A-aye, Captain," Sulu stammered, sharing a befuddled look with an equally confused Chekov, before turning back to his station and beginning their plan for retreat.

"Captain, would it not be wiser for us to eliminate the enemy's ship?" Spock had abandoned his station as he marched up to the command chair. The half-Vulcan bent slightly over in order to keep what was being said between them. "From the limited information there is to know about the Breen, they are a race of apathetic slave ravagers –"

"Captain, they're locking torpedoes!" cried Lieutenant Carver, from where he had been monitoring the hostile approach of the Breen.

"Sulu! Get us out of here!"

"Yes, sir!" Sulu's hand rested on the warp lever, poised to push it and send the ship traveling faster than the speed of light. "Departing in five… four… three… two –"

Before the vessel could warp out of the zone and into a safer airspace, the two Breen torpedoes heading straight for the _Enterprise_ had detonated directly in front of their main phaser banks. The explosion sent a slight tremor rocking through the vessel as the warp core shut down at the disruption.

"Damage report!" barked Jim.

"Shields are holding at eighty percent!" Lieutenant Montague reported. "Our phaser banks are affected."

Jim paused for a split second. They were being attacked. Retaliation was understandable and it was the only way for them to be able to warp out without sustaining more damage to the ship.

He would be damned if some metal suit wearing being blew his ship up into pieces under his command.

"Uhura, is there any nearby Starfleet vessels within warp time right now?"

"None. All available starships are out of our part of the quadrant."

"Arm phasers," Jim said, nodding curtly at his helmsman with a wry grin. "Fire at the raiders."

Sulu's fingers tapped his console expertly, having been trained for years to deal with situations such as this, as a series of warning beeping blared from his flat screen station. "There's something wrong with our phasers. I can't get them to discharge."

"Divert all power to forward shields. Fire all torpedoes at the raiders," Jim ordered. He then pressed a button on his command chair in order to patch himself through to engineering. The sound of muffled yells and blaring alarm signals rang clear from the engineering department. "Scotty! What's going on with our phasers?"

The ship rocked once again as two more torpedoes exploded around their alternate phaser banks. Jim swore under his breath. It seemed the Breen knew more about Federations ships than the Federation knew of them, as they were able to pinpoint exactly where their weapon outlets were located.

"I – I dunno, sir! They're online but unable to discharge. I've tried to program in the backup commands but they're still not workin'!" Scotty's brogue was even thicker in his state of panic. "I'm lookin' at the holo-feed of our phasers and it seems they're being blocked by a substance that was detonated in front o' them. It looks like… concrete?"

Jim swore once more, although louder this time, and vehement enough to garner a raised brow from his first officer. "Can you fix it?"

Scotty paused on the other end of the line. "I can send men out to try but I cannae say for sure. And they migh' be caught in the cross –"

There was a slight scuffle coming from the background of the transmission, followed by the chief engineer's hurried murmuring.

"Scotty?"

"Captain, what's the race of the ship that's attackin' us?"

"Breen," answered Jim. "Why?"

"Captain? This is tactical," A second voice, one sounding fairly feminine cackled from the intercom. Jim assumed she had been the one Scotty was whispering to in the background. "Get your helmsman to push all affected phasers' enfilade to maximum power and switch on setting four for phaser pattern. In the meantime, fire all your torpedoes at the shuttlecrafts in engagement and the main control of their ship. It's right in the center of their vessel, can't miss it."

Jim turned to his helmsman. "You heard the lady, Sulu."

"Yes, sir."

He watched as Sulu tweaked the adjustments for their phasers while the released torpedoes destroyed the Breen raiders that were attempting to further disable the rest of _Enterprise_'s weapons. From the growing glows of the enemy ship, he presumed that the Breen were attempting to dispatch more backups in a bid to sway the playing fields.

"Fire everything at the ship," He ordered. "Let's disable them before they do us."

"Sir! Our phasers are back again," Sulu reported. He swiveled in his seat and raised a brow at the captain, questioning him silently as to whether he should utilize the restored weapons in their retaliation.

"Go for it," Jim nodded with a grin, having shared the same sentiments as him.

The battle raged on for the next few minutes as the _Lamia_ fought to regain their stability. For every one time they managed to deploy another raider, it was shot down by a torpedo fired from the _Enterprise_, and would be destroyed within seconds of combat.

With hands clutching his command chair's rest in a white-knuckled grip and his body almost halfway out of his seat, Jim kept a careful eye on the battle. Although the _Lamia _was sustaining increasingly more damage than his ship, the Breen still fought on fiercely, as evident from Scotty's report that one of their warp chambers had sustained noticeable damage.

Thankfully, the _Enterprise_ would still be able to retreat with the remaining unaffected warp cores. All there was left to do now was to wait for the Breen to lose their ability to fire any more ammunition at them and give them enough time to warp out of the airspace.

"Captain, zeir shields are down and zey have ceased fire!" Chekov reported.

"Anymore raiders?"

"No, sir."

"Wonderful. Cease all attacks," Jim beckoned. "Take us out, Sulu."

"Aye, Captain."

As the vessel prepared for warp, the nagging feeling of guilt and dread pooled heavily in Jim's gut. Just less than two hours ago, he had just received a personal call from Pike to stay away from combat with other starships. Then, _Lamia _happened. Sure, he had been hoping to have something thrilling happen during the journey, but he hadn't been expecting to hear about the news of Starfleet's close scrutiny on him and the _Enterprise_

McCoy was right. He had jinxed it.

And now, he was left to fuss over concocting an exceptionally feasible reason as to why he had been forced to partake in the skirmish.

Jim pressed a button on his chair to reconnect him to engineering once more. "Scotty?"

"Yes, sir?"

"Get the tactical crew to the bridge," He said. "I want to know what the hell went wrong with our phasers."

There was another short bout of mumbles; followed by Scotty's _'She'll be there soon,' _before the call was disconnected.

Jim let out a soft sigh and leaned back into his chair, not caring that he was slumped rather unsightly in the most important seat on the ship. His long legs sprawled out in front of him and then feeling of something hard and pointed pressed into the flesh of his back painfully, causing him to wince as he pulled out the codex that he had abandoned upon entering the command center.

He was about to return to perusing the book when he caught a flash of blue and black from the corner of his eyes.

"Is something wrong, Spock?"

The half-Vulcan tilted his head to the side in a way that he often did in regards to his captain, and observed him intently with dark eyes.

"I am merely curious."

Jim raised his brows at him. "About?"

"The reasoning behind your decision to retreat when we were first provoked by the Breen. In spite of the short amount of time we have worked together, I find it… _peculiar _of you to choose flight over fight." Spock remarked, sounding as puzzled as someone from a race of historically known unemotional beings could manage.

"We did fight in the end," Jim stated.

"And that was only because we were left with no choice," Spock said. "I find it perplexing that you chose to retreat rather than pursue the enemy with an armed reprisal. It is unlike you to do so."

"Yeah, well," Jim shrugged. "It's a new ship and all, Spock. I don't want her to get splintered and blasted to smithereens. It'll break poor Scotty's heart."

The half-Vulcan narrowed his eyes at him dubiously. "I suppose so."

Spock regarded him for a few seconds longer – to which Jim stared readily back – before nodding curtly at him and turning back towards his station. It was clear to the latter that Spock didn't believe his excuse for his decision to retreat instead of retaliate, but Jim wasn't in the mood to see the disapproving looks his first officer was prone to give him when he did something that left much to be desired.

He would tell Spock about Pike's call – in time.

For now, he was going to concentrate on the report he had to submit to Starfleet Command about the fracas with the refrigerator suit wearing savages.

"Where are we now?" Jim asked.

"Ve are in ze Kotara star system," Chekov relayed. "Zere iz a Federation spacedock not far from here. Shall ve stop by for maintenance, sir?"

"Sure," Jim nodded. "Inform engineering. Scotty will want to prep the ship for repairs and oversee them himself."

"Aye, Captain." Chekov said as he began charting a course for the spacedock.

Jim then looked towards his helmsman, recalling a small detail from their encounter before. "Sulu?"

"Yes, sir?"

The blonde smirked. "The next time I tell you to do something, just do it. No hesitation." He caught the embarrassed look on Sulu's face and chuckled. "They might not be the most normal or ethical orders, but I know what I'm doing. And I need you to trust that I do, okay?"

"A-aye, Captain," Sulu said and shrugged. "I'm sorry. Like Commander Spock said, it was just weird to hear you ordering for a retreat instead."

"It was weird for me too," Jim shrugged. He would have blasted the _Lamia _into scraps if it were not for Pike's voice nagging at the back of his head. "But hey, a captain's gotta do what a captain's gotta do, no matter how much he doesn't –"

The forcibly loud clearing of a throat from somewhere behind Jim stopped him in his words as Sulu's attention snapped to whoever it was that had done so.

"Captain Kirk?"

The voice, decidedly feminine, caused Jim to straighten up from his slumped position. As if acting on his most natural instinct, Jim's trademark smirk pulled on his thin lips as he whirled about in his chair, as smoothly as he could manage, despite the slight crick in the stem.

The charm faded, however, when he saw who it was standing behind him. "Red?"

"I'm sorry?" The blonde raised eyebrows at him in response to his uttered confusion.

Unlike their first encounter in the sickbay, the young woman now had her beige blonde hair tucked into thick braids that sat at the top of her head. Jim thought she looked rather like one of the farmers' daughters who were often out toiling under the sun back in his old life – if you ignored the kooky red-framed glasses perched on her nose that is.

"Um, you called for me?"

"I did?"

Red nodded patiently. "You called for Scotty to get the tactical crew on the bridge for a report on the phasers' malfunction. _I _am said tactical crew."

"Oh. Well, okay," Jim schooled his face back into as stern an expression as he could manage and nodded curtly. "Take it away then, Cadet…"

"Rowen Lux," The blonde provided. Her lips quirked into a small smile. "And it's lieutenant commander actually. I'm _Enterprise's _new Head of the Tactical Analysis and Research team."

Jim's brows shot up into his hairline at the correction of her rank. He studied her carefully. She had chosen to don on the short-sleeved uniform, which didn't give him an indication of her position. But, he was fairly certain she couldn't have held a position higher than that of an ensign or a lieutenant even – she looked far too young.

"How old are you? _16_?" Jim blurted out, although he instantly wished he hadn't when Rowen's lips curled back into a tight line.

In his usual state of unfiltered speech, Jim had gone on and broken one of the universal rules in dealing with the opposite gender: never to ask for their ages at the first encounter. That coupled with the fact that the way he had asked her sounded condescending – even to his own ears – was only a cause for disaster.

"I don't understand how my age is relevant to anything," She shot back defensively, looking less amiable than before. Her eyes flashed behind her glasses in challenge as she tipped her chin up in defiance.

"No, no, what I mean is you just don't look old enough to be a lieutenant commander," Jim amended and added, "_Or_ the head of a tactical department."

"Oh? So just because I'm younger than most lieutenant commanders out there that I'm naturally unfit to lead a department specializing in weapons?" Rowen retorted tartly.

"Now you're getting my words all wrong," Jim chuckled. "I don't mean to offend your womanly pride or anything by asking for your age."

Sulu and Chekov both shared a look of exasperation as the former shook his head at their captain's tactlessness. Spock, on the other hand, looked terribly flummoxed, even for him. The lack of emotional control and fast-growing anger from Rowen was a puzzlement to the half-Vulcan, whose entire life prided on being logical in the face of diverse situations.

"I can assure you, _sir_, that the offense in your question isn't about the stereotype that women doesn't like to be asked their age – "

Jim held up his hands in a universal sign of surrender. "Okay let's calm down now."

"– And if you think that age is a clear indication of one's competence, then _you_ are most certainly not fit to be a captain!"

Everyone in the command team snapped their attention towards the two now, as silence engulfed the bridge in a stifling shroud at Rowen's biting words. While some of them have been sneaking curious glances at their captain and the petite tactical crewmember, they were all now staring at them unabashedly, watching the row unfold.

As if it had finally dawned on her that she had quite publicly questioned her commanding officer's capabilities, Rowen let slipped a surprise gasp and blanched. Pale cheeks that had been flushed pink in her state of rage burned brighter and hotter in her moment of audaciousness. Like water dousing a flame, the growing feeling of embarrassment blanketed all there was left of her indignation.

"I – I don't – I mean… I mean because you're young… too," She stammered, looking stricken at her outright show of impudence. "I'm sorry. I'm – that was way out of line. I'm sorry, sir."

Rowen waited with bated breath for the words that would rip her rank right out of her grasp as her eyes flickered from one stony face to another. The only person who displayed an emotion other than surprise or trepidation was Uhura, who was now smiling at her in what could only be described as badly concealed mirth.

Then, Jim chuckled.

It was a soft laughter at first, and then he snorted – rather ungainly – and leaned back into his chair. He crossed his arms across his chest and raised a brow at Rowen.

While he was used to women being offended and angered by some of the foolish things he would say over the years, it was fairly refreshing for Jim to receive an apology straight after a lady temper. Most of the time, he ended up with a drink thrown in his face or a sharp high-heel meeting his toes.

"Then I guess that must make me the pot and you the kettle, huh?" He joked, snorting once more.

Rowen visibly relaxed, although the redness in her face had yet to fade away. She cast an uneasy glance around the many eyes boring into them and shuffled in her spot, choosing instead to stare at a button on the command chair.

Jim swiveled in his seat and shot stern glares at the spectators. "What are you all staring at? Go on! Back to work!"

Reluctantly, the crew returned to their respective stations, although some of them were still stealing glances at the two.

Jim turned back to Rowen and smirked. "Now that that's over, shall we move onto the report then?"

Pursing her lips, Rowen straightened herself in a bid to regain her composure and nodded. She tapped the screen of her PADD a few times and pulled up several files and schematics as she began to spout out facts and information about the Breen species and their weaponry.

" – may be damaging but they can be counteracted by directing a steady phaser beam set on the highest charge at the organic matter." Rowen explained, shoving the simulated diagram of the reaction in Jim's face, as he recoiled in response.

"May I inquire as to how you manage to acquire such in-depth intelligence on an otherwise reclusive species?" asked Spock. He had joined the two while Rowen was explaining to Jim about how the Breen relied heavily on organic technology in their starship's tools and weaponry.

"I got it from the Federation's archives," She smiled and took back her PADD from Jim.

Spock's straight brows disappeared into his fringe. "The Federation's archives? I did not know they are open for public handling."

"They aren't," Rowen shrugged mildly. "I can duplicate a copy of the material for you, if you'll like."

"That will be most beneficial for _Enterprise_'s archives," Spock agreed hesitantly, having caught note of how Rowen had failed to explain how she got into the otherwise protected archives. "Such information may prove to be beneficial in situations such as that which we encountered today."

"So!" Jim straightened in his seat and peered up at the blonde. "Is that all?"

"One last thing, actually," Rowen said. "With your permission, Captain, I'll like to develop a series of advancements on your existing phaser banks."

Jim nodded. His hand reached for the codex again before flipping it open to the page he was last on. "Permission granted, Lieutenant."

Most crewmembers would have taken his short but straightforward answer as a cue to excuse themselves. However, Rowen remained standing in her spot, staring at Jim with a mildly confused frown.

"Anything else?" Jim asked, raising a brow at her.

"Aren't you going to ask me what I'm going to do to the phasers?"

"I'm sorry?"

The blonde analyst folded her arms across her chest and she repeated her question, albeit slower this time. Jim rolled his eyes, musing to himself that he was merely confused by her odd question and not mentally retarded.

"For all you know," She added. "I could be manipulating the weapons such that they would self-destruct in times of need to jeopardize the vessel."

Jim cast her an odd look. It seemed the new tactical analyst had a knack for saying things that caught him off guard.

"Right…" He nodded slowly. His eyes flicked over to Sulu and Chekov when they both snorted and attempted to hide their obvious amusement with forced coughing. "Are you?"

Rowen shook her head.

"Okay…" Jim nodded again. "And um, what are your intentions with our phasers?"

"I've drawn up possible schematics to alter their charge beams. It's to increase their damage power so that we wouldn't have another repeat of today," Rowen explained. "They're included in the department's report that yeoman Rand had collected, assuming of course, that you've read it."

"I've read it," Jim said hastily. "Of course I have. It's important for me to know the in and outs of _my _ship, Lux." Rowen cast him a dubious look nonetheless, which he readily ignored. "And your plan sounds good. _Great_. Get Scotty to help, I trust his expertise."

"Oh, don't worry about that. I've already asked for his assistance." Rowen said. "All I need is your permission."

"You've got it now," Jim shrugged. "Anything else?"

Rowen shook her head.

"Good. Great," Jim repeated and flashed her a bright grin. "Job well done today, Lieutenant. Keep up the good work."

The tactical analyst raised a brow at him and returned his smile, although hers came out to be more subdued and forced, baring a slight flash of teeth. Jim's carefree and nonchalant behaviour left her stumped for a suitable reaction to present to him in response.

"Um, thank you, sir," She murmured. "I'll pass a copy of the updated report to your yeoman. If there's nothing else…"

"Go on then, Lieutenant."

With another curt nod, Rowen turned on the balls of her heels and left as quickly as she had arrived, but with a trail of curious eyes following her in her wake this time.

"Huh," Jim mused, directing his chair towards the front again. He nudged Spock in the arm with his elbow and laughed. "She's almost like you! Just more emotional and better looking."

Spock cut his captain a sharp glare and stalked back to his station without another word.

* * *

**A/N: no excuses; simply lost my muse for awhile and got really upset when I spoiled myself (intentionally tbqh) on STID. **

***JJ Abrams, I will shit on everything you love and when you plead for mercy, I'm going to look down at you and say: "The needs of many, outweighs the needs of _you_." You complete asshat.**

Anyways, it's a long chapter this time for the introduction of our 'heroine' ;) hope this justified the three weeks wait because I have nothing else to give except for a heartfelt apology.

To all my subscribers: thanks for still sticking with me and I hope you do continue to stick with me for awhile

As always, **read, subscribe **and** review**!

**antepenult**


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